


Home For Christmas

by mickeym



Category: Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Holiday, Kissing, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-05
Updated: 2005-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/83553">Wide Open Spaces</a> Universe; will probably make more sense if you read that first.</p><p>JC is exactly where he wants to be, for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home For Christmas

_It's tall in the saddle we spend Christmas Day, Drivin' the cattle on the  
snow-covered plains. So many gifts have been opened today; Ours is the sky  
and the wide open range. It's Christmas for Cowboys and wide open plains. _

_-John Denver_

 

Two years, and JC still thinks sunrise in Montana is the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. It's pinks and mauves spreading across the sky, chasing away the black velvet of night. The longer he watches, the more the sky seems to reflect off the snowbanks, the mountains, every surface available.

It still amazes him, makes him feel huge and small, and rich and humble all at the same time.

"Coffee's almost ready," he says quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace he feels this morning. It smells good, dark and delicious, and he leans in closer to breathe in the steam rising from the tin pot beginning to bubble over the fire. "You want chocolate in yours?"

"Yeah." Joey turns away from tying a bedroll behind his saddle. "How's breakfast doing?"

"You're not gonna starve, man." But JC pokes at the other pot; watches the oatmeal pop silent bubbles as it cooks. "It's almost ready. You want sugar in yours?"

"Brown or white?"

"Dude." JC flashes a grin. "Does anyone put white sugar on oatmeal? Besides you?"

Joe sticks his tongue out. "Justin. I learnt it from him."

"I should've known." It's weird to be out here without Justin, who is probably tucked up in his bed back in Memphis. He's promised to come back in the spring, to help out with all the springtime chores and emergencies and chaos that comes with running a ranch the size of Joe's, but he had one semester of school left, and his momma missed him at Christmas last year, so he stayed home.

"Don't diss my cousin." There's a muffled *oomph*, and Joey swears under his breath, then says, "actually, I think Chris eats it like that, too."

"Okay, that really doesn't surprise me." JC looks up from watching the oatmeal bubble. "You need help?"

"Yeah. Can you help--it's stuck," Joey says inarticulately, gesturing toward the cinch on the saddle. Midnight stamps his foot impatiently when Joey reaches under again, and JC shakes his head.

"Hold on." He sets the pot down off the fire, but still right beside it, so the oatmeal will stay warm, but not burn, then walks around Midnight, trailing his hand over the horse's rump just as Joey had shown him, ages ago. "Doofus. You have it twisted. Some horseman, Fatone."

"Hah. You try doing it in the dark."

"It's not dark now, and I have." JC straightens the leather and pulls the cinch tight, remembering how long it'd took him to learn how to saddle a horse properly -- and then to do it in the near-dark of early morning.

There is extra warmth right beside him suddenly that has nothing to do with Joey's Midnight, nor his own horse, Starlight, who's standing still and quiet on the other side of him. "Merry Christmas, city boy." Joey says softly, brushing a kiss against the back of JC's neck before grinning, his smile making JC feel warm down to the core.

"Not such a city boy anymore," he says in mild protest, answering the smile with one of his own. "And merry Christmas to you, too."

"No, you're right." The sun isn't anywhere near full up yet, and the air temperature has to be somewhere close to zero, but the closer Joe gets to him, the warmer JC feels. The wind isn't cold any more, and the snow seems to vanish, replaced by the wet heat of Joey's mouth, kissing him properly this time. Warmth trickles faster through him, slow and sweet like honey drizzled over biscuits. "Ain't been a city boy for a while." One big, gloved hand cups JC's head, bringing him in closer for another kiss.

JC feels dizzy when Joey lets go, but it's a good dizzy. The kind he'd trade anything for, willingly.

Actually, he thinks, grinning, he has. He's traded expensive Italian loafers and suits with ties for boots and spurs and denim. Traded an ocean-view condo for a snug ranch house, complete with bearskin rug (which thankfully Joey hadn't shot or skinned himself and which JC happily moved to their guest room). Traded unhappy, uncertain, un-everything for Joey and Joey's world, and an endless supply of kisses, smiles, and love.

"What're you grinning about," Joey whispers against JC's ear. JC shivers where it tickles, then sighs.

"Just thinkin' about this." He gestures outward, trying to express _all_, and not sure he's doing an adequate job of it. There's so much, and he doesn't remember the last time -- before Joey -- that he was this happy. Which is really funny, considering they just spent the night rolled up sleeping bags on the hard, cold ground.

It isn't so much the sleeping on the hard cold ground that makes him smile, makes him happy. It's last year, herding cattle with Justin and Joey, and Chris and Lance, sitting around the campfire singing Christmas songs and knowing there isn't anywhere on earth he'd rather be. It's knowing the new year will hold more of the same; knowing Joey's heart is his, just as his is Joey's. It's the night before, and now, the morning after. Last night, snuggling down in front of the fire, just the two of them this year, sharing body heat as they leaned into each other's touch. Even later, just them beneath the night sky, wrapped in sleeping bags, making love with an intensity that takes JC's breath away now, just thinking about it.

And now there's this morning. Christmas morning, though barely. JC thinks about the phone call with his mom last week, and her disappointment that he wasn't coming 'home' for the holidays. That isn't his home anymore, and it's not his life. This is his life, the cold, crisp air crackling around him, snow glistening blindingly white with green pines standing out in stark relief. This is his Christmas now, just as this is his home. "I can't go home, because I'm already there," he mutters, still leaning against Joey.

"You think--this is home?" Joey's gone still against him, breath moist and warm where it brushes JC's neck, just beneath the hair peeking out beneath his hat.

"You're home," JC says, turning into Joey's embrace. "The rest of this--is just perfect."

~fin~


End file.
